Les Ombres du Passé
by MortRouge
Summary: It's present time, and after one hundred years the Phantom still lives, cursed by his long life to remember how things were. When he takes residence in a New York theatre, and finds duplicates of ghosts long since past, he decides to re-live the past...
1. Memories

Phantom of the Cinema

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of M. Laroux, nor his story plot. If I did then I could easily say that Erik was mine.

Summary: It's present time and a young girl by the name of Chris has a new job to support herself away at college. When odd things start to happen at her work, she is driven to figure out the mystery of the Phantom.

Memories

* * *

_I was curious on how long the cinema had been standing, considering the odd architecture. Half of it was fairly new built at the end of the nineties, but for some reason or another it seemed to merge with an older part of the building that looked as if it was from before the era of the talkies._

_The couple who ran the establishment were in fact homosexual. I had no problem with it, but there was still some homophobia floating around, which resulted in a slight decrease of customers. Andre and Firmin they called themselves, I had no doubt that their names were changed, and when I asked them about it, they replied that they had 'stolen' their names from a book called Phantom of the Opera. Their real names I found out were actually Frank and Tim. Go figure._

_The name had rang a bell to me, and I quickly remembered that a movie was coming out that had the same title. But I digress, that's not where my troubles started, no._

_They started when I first ran into my ex-boyfriend near theatre eight…._

_It was October, and employees were all ready decorating for Halloween. I had just started my first term of college, and I was as excited as ever for being away from my hometown, which had no more excitement than a peanut butter sandwich._

_I was a new employee back then, just starting so I could pay for my ramen and water to survive off of. I had cleaning duty that night, which included picking up the spilt sodas and scraping the gum off of the bottom of seats after customers had left the theatre. To say the least it wasn't the most glamorous of jobs._

_My troubles hadn't ended that night however; my ex had popped his head out of the projection room to yell down "Hey! Christine!" I hadn't looked up yet, and I was about to yell back never to call me by my real first name, when I caught sight of that tousled brown hair of his._

_I froze, staring at him, as a triumphant smirk crossed his face, and he ran down the stairs to the ground floor. My eyes were still agape as I looked at Ray; he unfortunately took this as a 'Welcome back' and pulled me into a hug._

_It was then I snapped to my senses, and wedged my hand between him and me, and pushed him away, a look of utter sock and horror crossing my face. "What are you doing here?" I asked my voice failing me as I looked frightened half to death as I gazed upon his lengthy form._

_"I could say the same for you. I work here! I'm assistant manager." He replied excitedly._

_So he was my superior? He was my boss!?_

_Thoughts flooded my head as I stared at him. We had gone out for two months during junior year at our high school. When I decided that I wasn't all that into him, I tried to casually break up with him. After all he was possessive, cocky, and all most all ways controlling. But apparently the feeling wasn't mutual, and he practically stalked me for the rest of high school._

_He had ruined my dates, beat up my boyfriends, and even blackmailed my friends into leaving me until I went out with him. I had been excited to get away from my hometown for many reasons, but one of the greatest ones was to get away from Ray._

_Now here he was standing in front of me, smashing my hopes with every word he spoke. A lump grew in my throat, as he babbled on about something useless and stupid._

_I couldn't stand it anymore!_

_Tears welled up in my eyes, and I ran back to the exit, struggling to keep them back. I wanted to go into a place were he couldn't find me, where anyone couldn't find me._

_I pushed my way into the vacant bathrooms on the talkie side of the building, and bolted myself into one of the stalls. I didn't hold back anymore, and I sobbed out my heart's desire feeling like vomiting into the toilet next to me. Why did everything have to wrong for me?_

_I had cried for at least ten minutes, and when I felt as if I couldn't cry anymore, I resorted to the sniffles. My legs were crumpled beneath me, and I just realized that the pins and needles feeling had started to creep up my legs. I supported one hand on the toilet bowl above me and made way to stand up. It was then when I heard the most glorious thing in my life._

_It was singing, and of the kind I'd only heard in my dreams. Transfixed I stood up, and unlocked the bolted door. The room was empty, yet the sound seemed to echo through the entire room. I crept out, unsure of what exactly to do, but my curiosity overpowered me, and I neared where the glorious sound was coming from._

_It was as if I was hypnotized, and I moved towards the mirror, without recollection that I ever did so. There was a full length mirror that was embedded into the wall of the bathroom, with a faux gold leaf trim, and as I drew nearer I grew more certain that the music was in fact coming from behind it._

_I pressed the tips of my fingers to the cool glass and stared into it. It was the last thing I remembered._

* * *

**God had cursed me with a life that seemed eternal, I had not died, nor did I think I could. You ask why god has cursed me with an extended life? It is the simple thing that Christine died before I, and thus she was not there to give me back my ring. My one wish had been shattered as if it were the chandelier. I did not attend her funeral, all though I wish I did, but the mere thought seeing the angel lie in an enclosed coffin as I do, it was unthinkable. To see her golden curls about her face, frozen in time, her sea blue eyes closed, in her eternal sleep. Yes she would be dead.**

**It would also be a risk, considering her Vicomte was still having nightmares about my Punjab lasso, and my looming figure. He was alive, unfortunately, and blamed me for every little thing. If a vase fell down it was Erik who had pushed it. If their child had cried, it was Erik whom had frightened it. If I had appeared to give my respects, in broad daylight, her Viscomte would pull out his pistol faster than one could say Phantom.**

**I moved to the states soon afterward to escape the all too curious reporters. It was then when I told Nadir to let slip to the papers that I in fact was dead, and to bury a poor soul where my house was. Laroux however had made my story into something it was not. Having even let that fat, bastard of a man live was more of a trouble than it had been to even glace upon his face.**

**I lived in New York, a different feel than Paris had been. Paris was more about beauty, while New York was about business. But it was better than reliving my memories day after day. I soon took residence in a local cinema after Lon Cheney had impersonated me on the silver screen. I destroyed the film of every shipment of that accursed movie that they received. Things were quiet about me for the longest time until another man; Andrew Lloyd Webber decided to plague the city with his show.**

**A musical no doubt! Had I truly been reduced to musical material?**

**I went quiet for the next twenty years, until I spotted a familiar face that had entered the cinema. It was no other than the accursed Vicomte! Yet…he was different. His youth had been restored to its original state, and his clothing was of the new styles. But it was the Vicomte no less.**

**I did nothing to disturb him as he filled out an application, but the rest of a month I tortured him by overturning his cleaning supplies. Yet he had been quickly promoted to Assistant Manager. I found this utterly annoying and voiced my opinions as I all ways did, through my letters.**

**Of course the Vicomte's looks had increased the visits of the female customers. And business was of course business. It was one of the few things I did to forgive the managers.**

**It was soon afterwards, when I saw a ghost from my past.**

**The first day I saw her again my heart stopped, had she too faked her death? Granted her hair was shorter, and like her Vicomte her attire was nothing less than current. But there she was, alive and not a day older than when I left her to her Vicomte. A certain joy lit her face, still innocent as if I hadn't even laid a hand on her.**

**Did her memory fail her? Did she fear her Phantom still? My heart ached with longing. Had it been so long since I touched my skeletal fingers to her hair, and smelled the sweet perfume that made her my angel? I kept back, watching her as if I had been her Angel of Music once more. In hearing distance, but never close enough to see.**

**But a sort of hesitation lied in the back of my mind, prompting me to go through with it, and prove myself that once again I was a fool under going a lost cause. She had after all chosen her Vicomte over me quite easily. To think that she could actually consider looking at the mask that hid my disfigured visage would send shivers down her spine.**

**After all had we not all played part in a Greek tragedy? She the Persephone, that I Hades had selfishly drug into the darkness that was the underworld?**

**My obsession had come back to me in minutes, and every moment she spent in the theatre I watched her. My thoughts had once more turned not to myself, but where she was going, who she was going with. Oh how my thoughts were not my own!**

**Sleep there was none, nourishment there was none. My whole life had quickly taken back its role as protector of the Angel.**

**I found it odd however that Vicomte and Vicomtesse had not encountered one another until the incident in Theatre eight. Apathy had grown in my soul since her departure, yet when the accursed boy drew her close again, as a look of disgust rose on her face, rage swelled once again in me.**

**Hatred had grown in her heart against him, and for whatever reason she felt as I did. As he embraced her she pushed away, shocked at the boy's very presence, and stared at him, as if he was the most horrid thin on this planet.**

**It was a brief moment in time, and for less than a minute she stood there looking at his form. It was soon afterwards she ran away, looking as if about to cry. The boy stayed behind, shocked that she could even refuse him. He truly was an imbecile.**

**I followed her, dancing through the hidden catwalks I had installed above the ground, until she disappeared into the lavatory, her face streaked with tears. It was then I vowed to myself, that I would kill the boy if he ever made her cry like that, without reason. Without purpose.**

**She had remained in there for the longest time, and I found it necessary to enter, to comfort her. But I did not directly walk into the lavatory; no I comforted her with my voice, hopeful that she would remember her lessons well.**

**By then she had stopped crying, but still her sorrow had remained. She grew increasingly curious as my voice projected from behind the mirror. My dreams had finally come true, to feel her warm flesh against mine, but this time, her silly Vicomte would not be there to steal her away.**

**I had to remind her once more of the life we shared.**

**Christine…**

For those of you who are unaware of the titles that Erik is mentioning,

Vicomte: Viscount

Vicomtesse: Viscountess

Also it would be helpful if someone could BETA for me, so if you want to help me please tell me via review!

Please review and tell me what you think of the story so far, reviews all ways make my day.


	2. Depression

First off, I apologize to all who were a bit confused in the last chapter. Half of the chapter is in Chris' perspective while the other half is Erik's. I'll replace it with a coded one. Bold being Erik's POV and italics being Chris'. Regular print will be third person all knowing. Thank you for two reviews, which have inspired me to update! In other words more reviews quicker update. Usually. Returning to your normal viewing schedule, Phantom of the Cinema.

* * *

It had been fifteen minutes since Chris had made her exit; and Ray was sitting in one of the theatre chairs, his elbow propped on the arm rest, and his chin against his arm. He let out a muffled sigh and stood up, sure that by now Chris had calmed down enough for him to console her. At least, he hoped so.

He stood, and stretched, as though he was a cat, and slunk out of the theatre, to find his 'employee'. He sauntered out of the theatre, and ran a hand through his mop of hair before checking in each individual theatre listening intently for any signs of Chris. His walk was slow and easy as he walked in and out of the gigantic rooms, to the projection rooms, and back down again. It hadn't really taken that long, considering the boy was all ready accustomed to the depths of the cinema.

When he walked out of the projection room of theatre 20, he was all ready bordering on the older side, reminiscent of the movie's golden age. A smile formed on his thin lips, and he casually called out her name.

Suddenly, a different voice echoed back. A voice that was not his own. The ethereal sound floated through the pipes, sending shivers down the youth's spine. "Chris!?" he yelled once more, his tone growing more frantic each moment. An uneasy pit formed in his stomach, and he made a mad dash towards the voice, skidding to a stop once he reached the women's lavatory, where the sound originated.

An uneasy feeling crept through his body as he delicately pressed the shell of his ear against the door to listen better. "Chris…sweetie? Was it something I said? 'Cause if it was I'm sorry!" His tone was still covered with urgency.

The sound of something sliding open made him jump away, stunned. Ray stared at the door, listening as the voice suddenly faded away, as if it had been enveloped in cotton.

He could stand it no longer!

Violating all the social taboos, and going against the little voice in his head, he barged in the room. Checking all of the empty stalls, he finally gave up. Ready to make his leave, he looked back to the mirror, and noticed one of Chris' yellow cleaning glove lying on the floor.

* * *

It had been a day since Chris had gone missing, and Ray was at his wit's end. He had taken up the night shift in addition to his usual one to search for her. By morning the two managers had re-entered the building, looking full of cheer and happiness. How it pained Ray to look at them, happy as a couple like that, while he was constantly being turned down by Chris. Finally, he walked up to the managers, to ask if they had seen the young girl.

"No monsieur," replied Andre with a slight frown, his fake accent amplified by a sort of disappointment. "But… we did receive a letter, detailing that Mademoiselle Chris had to leave for an emergency, and that she would be back in a while…"

Ray frowned and bowed his head to stare at his feet. "Might I… see the letter please?" he inquired, avoiding eye contact with his superiors. Firmin nodded and shuffled through his pocket, to pull out an odd looking envelope.

The paper was thick, and when Ray held out his hand to take it, the texture of the envelope was rough, as if it had been weathered over the years. A crimson wax stamp had sealed the envelope, which had been of course broken to read the contents which read:

M. Andre and Firmin

I am sorry to say that I have to take a sick leave, due to my father dieing. I will be out of town, to support my family, and I will not return for a minimum of a week. I also apologize for leaving at such short notice, and I will report back to work as soon as I can.

Christine Laroque

"Mr. Firmin… this is not Chris' handwriting, and Chris wouldn't sign her whole name, she hates it. Not to mention she doesn't write at all like this, her sentences are longer, and conjoined."

Firmin shrugged and slipped a hand around Andre's waist. "Oh well she must have gotten another family member to write it for her."

A morbid look formed around Ray's eyes as he tilted his head up for the first time. "Chris' father is dead. He has been since she was in middle school."

The police were called an hour later after the whole staff had searched the cinema for any signs of Chris. Yet the only thing found was her glove that she had on when she was cleaning theatre eight, and the letter in which handwriting could not be identified, much less fingerprints considering the author of the note had worn gloves.

The police had arrived quickly and used the glove to let the dogs sniff out the young woman's trail. Everything led back to the bathroom and the mirror. The police, and the dogs for that matter were as confused as anyone else. The case had been labeled as a kidnapping, and was sent as an 'Amber Alert' over national television.

The press arrived two hours after the police had, and were pestering the cinema workers for an interview. Ray easily took the role as the grieving boyfriend, and had left innuendos to the press that the two were a serious couple. This was expected by the other workers, considering they were well informed of Ray's affection for the young girl.

Nothing had been accomplished by the end of the day, with the exception of the news crews getting better ratings. And everyone was exhausted.

The day ended with everyone stretched out, in a large circle and conversing. The police were still there, and the news casters had left after eleven, because they of course "didn't give a shit whether or not Chris died.", as Ray had so eloquently put it.

The theatre was closed down, which was of course was bad for business, which didn't add to the fact that many parents would come in complaining about the safety. But the workers didn't care about that in the slightest at the moment.

Andre and Firmin were resting against the counter of the snack bar, and looked even more dejected than any other person in theatre. Conversation between the two, and the group was light, and they added little to the optimism of the group.

The rest of the employees were all teenagers, or college students, who knew Chris for less than three months. A blonde boy, who had moved from California looked shiftily around, and asked where Ray was.

"Oh he's prolly looking for Chris again, he hasn't stopped like at all since she disappeared." responded a younger girl on the other side of the circle.

The all nodded in agreement, and looked around, for any signs of his return.

The Californian spoke up again "What if like…the dude who kidnapped Christine is like… a crazy guy that's going to kill us one by one?"

Suddenly a creaking of the front door made everyone jump, afraid for their lives. They were relieved to see a man in his late twenties standing at the door, before walking over to the group. He was handsome and resembled someone they all knew well.

Firmin spoke up "In case you haven't heard sir, we're closed for the night." A few anxious giggles softly interrupted the conversation. "One of our employees has gone missing. Besides, the police aren't permitting any other people un-related to the case to come near here."

The man nodded and replied with ease "Sorry, but I'm Ray's brother, I need to talk with him."

Firmin sighed and combed back his hair with the palm of his hand. "I apologize sir, but Mr. Rye has run off on his own little investigation, we don't know where he is right now."

The man nodded and began to walk down the hall ways, checking for any sign of his little brother. Finally he arrived at the place so talked about in the news. Theatre eight.

The man entered the theatre, and slowly peeped out from the side to see the crumpled form of his little brother, moaning something incomprehensible. He was heaving out sobs, as if it was the only thing he could do to survive. The man neared, feeling more and more crestfallen as he neared Ray.

He sat down next to him, and looked at the pale and sorry state his brother was in. Ray's hair covered his face, hiding himself from his brother. He could all ready detect signs that Ray hadn't been bathing, and the man noticed the tips of the young man's hair was all ready starting to grease up.

"Ray…c'mon look up" implored the eldest brother.

As if he expected Chris to be right next to him, Ray snapped up, wiping away the tears that had streaked down his face, and had been momentarily blocked by a tiny amount of stubble that had grown. "Payton…?" he choked out, looking at his brother as if he was a ghost. He swung his arms around the elder boy's abdomen and pulled him into a hug. "It's awful…" he sobbed into the depths of his brother's sweater.

The taller boy pulled away for a moment, holding on to Ray's upper arms, and looking him in the eyes, a kind and compassionate look on his face. "You really like this Chris chick don't you…?" Payton asked slowly, watching tears cascade his brother's face as Ray nodded slowly.

"Why are you staying here? Everyone else is in the lobby, and people are getting concerned about you…" He asked gently standing up, and hoping his brother would follow suit.

"Wh-when she com-comes back I'll be here. Just where she left me…" he replied shakily, more tears flowing down his cheeks. "Oh God it's my fault! It- it's mine isn't it? I should ha-have gone after her" he hiccupped, and clutched his sides uneasily. Ray pressed his fingernails into the sides of his t-shirts, in an attempt to calm himself down, but to no avail.

Payton pushed the seat back down and pulled his brother into a hug. It was as if the hover damn had suddenly broke, and once again Ray was sent into oblivion, as he muttered out half spoken sentences. It had taken thirty minutes to calm the boy down again until he could cry no more.

Payton pulled out of the hug and smiled weakly at his brother. "Look Mum and Dad begged me to check up on you, but I think I'm going to be in town a little longer, for your sake okay?"

Ray nodded slowly, and stood up. "She's not going to die" he replied shortly, as if to assure himself that everything and everyone would be all right.

"No she's not" replied Payton, unsure of his brother's precise meaning, Payton stood up once again, and moved with a red-eyed Ray back to the lobby.

* * *

A little shorter than the last one, but then again, Ray is a hard character to write for, I much prefer writing from our lovely, and slightly insane Erik. Did you like my interpretation of our young nemesis? I tried to make him as human as possible, so there's pity on all sides.

Moonjava: I hope you are entertained by this 'engaging read' even if it doesn't contain Erik. But alas it is needed. Thanks for the compliment, which by the way is one of the weirdest ones I have ever gotten. 'Acutely not too bad'

Friendorphantom: Thanks for the review; I always love when I get them!


	3. Rose

**In the year 1936, I was experimenting with a type of chemical that eased the burning sensation that often plagued me. It was one of the many things I did to keep my mind focused on the present. However, when I accidentally mixed two chemicals, it created a paralytic, and the fumes immediately sent the person who dare waft the concoction, into a comatic like sleep.**

**It was a great help in letting my memories ease away, in a dreamless sleep, but unfortunately the substance was highly addictive. For nearly twenty years, I could not bear to _not _let the fumes intoxicate me, and send me into a dreamless state. It was a nightly ritual which soon became habitual over the years.**

**I realized one night however on what this- this potion, it was controlling me. So I there after quit suddenly, because I could not bear to let a _substance _rule me. However, I kept the procedures into making this hideous concoction tucked away, in a place where I could easily retrieve it; dare it ever prove useful again.**

**I found no use for it, until Christine began to walk the halls once more, and the wheels in my mind kept turning. I had an ebbing feeling that she had not in fact remembered me, nor my voice, so I was there to help her actually. After all what are you if not for your memories?**

**I did not however 'capture her' as you might think. No, she came of her own free will did she not? She neared the mirror, towards the sound of my voice and mark this- of her own accord. I only used the drug, because I dare not want to frighten her. I dabbed the edge of my handkerchief in the liquid, careful not to breath though my poor excuse of a nose, and swiftly pressed it against her face. It was potent enough for a grown man to take in, and faint like a fair lady. Apprehension grew on me, as I questioned myself whether I used too much of the dastardly concoction.**

**She fell into my arms, as if a bout of sleep had just plagued her. I cradled her like a piece of china, gently lifted her body into a horizontal position, and carried her, as if she where my bride.**

**As I carried her down the stairs, feeling an odd pang of nostalgia creep up my spine. She was light, perhaps lighter than she had been before, but that worried me not. She had no signs of malnutrition, and as long as she was healthy, I was pleased. Yet she had changed subtly, her hair was ironed flat, and cut to the nape of her neck, the golden edges curving away from her delicate visage. She was also not as fair as I had remembered her; perhaps it was the climate of the states? But she was Christine there was no doubt of this fact; her face was lightly dusted with 'freckles' as most might call them, which gave a certain finesse to her character, making her child-like innocence seem transparent.**

**Her clothing was a uniform, which did not impress the eyes. Her usually pressed and tidy**

**vest was opened, and slightly wrinkled. A tie adorned her neck, which looked surprisingly well on the former Opera starlet, but was loosened, obviously to increase her comfort whilst cleaning. An undershirt which was supposed to be tucked into the trousers was pulled out, and a few of the buttons were either missing, or simply undone. Her trousers were rolled up to her knees, and were covered in a sticky substance, which I dared not to touch again.**

**But she was still my Christine- no, she wasn't mine and she had never really been had she? Her heart all ways belonged to her Vicomte, but now as time had slowly inked by, perhaps a wedge had formed in their marriage. This was sliver of a hope that I had then, and against all chances, I kept the thought rooted in my mind.**

**My thoughts at that time were calculating, and distant, but I had yet to realize that the second part of the potion had yet to take effect- the paralytic. She was only in a deep sleep now, unable to wake until the morning, but her body was still moving.**

**She writhed in my grasp for a moment, and adjusted herself against the uncomfortable position she was in. I froze, all most in terror, as she drew near my body, and tried to rest her face against my torso, whilst her delicate fingers softly pressed against the only part of my face that was not deformed- my mouth.**

**Shivers went through my entire being as her touch was on my skin. Oh had it been so long, to feel the touch of another human being? Her hand paused for a moment stayed, long enough for my lips to move against her finger. But wo! Gravity had taken it's effect, and her arm fell once more to her side, folded ever so neatly.**

**A voice shouted back, that she did not desire to touch me. Her instincts had driven her to near the warmest living thing, which just happened to be me. It was a scientific thought, but it was full of apathy, a thing I despised the most.**

**Her body was faced towards me, and I stopped admiring the young woman I held in my arms. But I had to continue. With her slender body, supported against mine, I continued onward, pushing myself not to break down, and shed tears of joy by her mere touch.**

**The cellar of the theatre had been used for storage, but because it was such a long trip down there few peopled dared to venture down alone. I do believe the aura of the cellars, held a forbidden feeling. This however was a use to my advantage.**

**I had reconstructed the damp storage room, and for the past months, it was a complete duplicate of that under the Paris Opera. I carried her lithe form to her old bed, and tentatively laid her on the satin and silk sheets.**

**I had begun to take a different drug at that point on- it was the closeness of Christine, and I would not part with it. I was willing to pay any cost.**

_I remember waking up the next morning in a completely new surrounding. I bolted out of the bed, and looked around frantically. But my fear was replaced by awe, as I began to take in my surroundings. I was in a four poster bed, and large black curtains were pulled shut around me. I remembered that they were used in the seventeenth and eighteenth century Europe because of the cold climate._

_The dark wood was engraved with floral shapes. I got up and slowly followed a cut in the wood with my fingers in amazement. But that was not the only thing that fascinated me. The bed was able to hold ten people quite comfortably, and the linens on the bed were of fine white satin, and Egyptian cotton. The mere material of the fabric I had been sleeping on had to cost over one hundred thousand dollars._

_I literally thought I had died and gone to heaven. I wrenched open the heavy bed curtains, ready to spring out; my curiosity running high. But my joy had ended there. My legs unfortunately could not seem to work. I tried to remember what happened to me the last night, but anything after my fingers touching the glass was a mystery to me._

_I decided that it was a necessity to see my surroundings, other than my bed, and rolled over the side, my limp legs following. The heavy curtains moved out of my way, as if afraid that the end would be crushed by my body. I impacted the hard concrete my side, and felt my arm press into my side; a fire seemed to spread through my arm. I shook it off for a moment, and tried to crawl out from the tangle of the black bed curtains._

_My head found a way to peak through the fabric, but I soon forgot the luxurious surroundings, to see a figure sitting in a chair. I lay there, staring at the figure. He was dressed unusually, and wore extremely formal clothing. But that was not what caught my attention. It was a black mask he wore. It covered his entire face with the exception of his mouth and the portion of chin below it._

_Yet he was still as a corpse. I concluded that he was sleeping, and crept closer; using my elbows and arms to draw me closer to this mystery man I knew nothing of. I was close to him now, and if I really tried I could touch him. Yet I remained a few feet away, just staring at him. Who was this masked man?_

_"Bonjour Mademoiselle"_

_The voice awoke me from my thoughts and I stared up at him in amazement. He had been watching me, I realized, and a heat spread over my face; blood rushing to my face in embarrassment. I had to say something so I countered with another French greeting._

_"Salut" I replied in a slightly shaky tone. The side of his lip had turned upwards in amusement, as I felt his icy gaze._

_"Ramper de n'est pas qu'une dame devrait faire" he responded silkily, amusement hinting in his voice._

_He had gone to quickly for me to catch what little French I knew, and I only moved up to a normal sitting position, and slowly asked in the little French I knew "Parlez-vous l'anglais?"_

_He nodded and slowly stood, holding a hand out for me to take. I paused for a moment, and sniffed the air, letting a light rose scent drift into my nose. Little did I know what it really was. As if by my legs had stood, as if they had never been frozen in the first place, I was mystified by his presence, and I didn't even give a second thought when I took his hand, and followed him like a little puppy._

_He led me back to the bed and gently stated "Your day has been quite tiring, you will need energy later, take rest" It was not a request, no 'please' or 'would you mind's' but a gentle saying as if that was the way it was. I obeyed and slowly crept back into the bed._

_But something tugged at me, as I stared up at the masked man. "What is you name?" I whispered in amazement._

_The air was still for a moment._

_"Erik" And then he left me to fall asleep once more._

_The smell of roses has been in my memories since that day._

I was going to write more, but unfortunately my schedule has been very busy. Expect to have another update in a couple of weeks. Yes it is shorter. Thank you FriendorPhantom and Moonjava for another review, and to La Regina, a new reviewer! The movie is going to be out in fifteen days, just a tiny heads up! Oh and Erik said that " A lady should not be crawling about" Just incase your not familiar with the French language.


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